


Guilty

by whitachi



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the L.A. Noire kinkmeme.</p><p>Prompt:in honor of our 420th comment: Roy being the terrible influence he is, scores some freebies off the Reefer Madness case and somehow manages to talk Cole into giving it the old college try.</p><p>I could say "and then they eat a whole carton of ice cream and Cole spends an hour looking at his hands" but we all know I just want everyone to get freaky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty

It was late, he was tired, and it was time to head back to the station, to head home. Marie and the children would long since have gone to bed, and he’d have to once again creep into his own home like a burglar in the night. He was sweating under his suit, he had a headache creeping from the base of his neck into his temples, and his stomach was nothing but sourness and old coffee. And Roy? Roy was singing.  
  
He had a long arm resting along the door of the car and he leaned a little out into the breeze as Cole drove them through the thinly-trafficked Hollywood streets. His voice drifted in and out, little soft words occasionally become hums, only to pick up again on the chorus. Cole knew the song, and it had sounded better coming out of Elsa’s mouth.  
  
“You should rethink your second career as a torch singer,” he said, sharp, with his hands tight on the wheel. He kept his eyes on the road, but he could see Roy’s head turn slowly towards him, and the cat’s smile spread out on his lips.  
  
“And here I thought you had an appreciation of music, Cole,” Roy said, and leaned in a little to croon more loudly and directly. “ _Is it a sin? Is it a crime? Loving you like I do..._ ” He put a real theatricality into it, and Cole closed his eyes just long enough to feel them burn.  
  
“I’m really not in the mood for a serenade right now, Roy.”  
  
“I’ll sing the rest of it to you when we’re at the station. It’d be a treat for all the boys.”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure it will be hilarious, thank you.” That headache was creeping right into the center of his brows. “Just do me a favor and pretend I’ve already laughed at it.”  
  
Roy laughed a little and leaned up against the corner of his seat, watching Cole. “You feeling a little tense, there, Phelps? Not getting enough recreational time?” He said those last two words in a way that they were dripping, a way that made Cole’s lip turn up.  
  
“I am fine, thank you.”  
  
“It’s a well known fact that police officer who are under too much stress make mistakes on the job. Very serious consequences.” He tilted his hat back a little and smiled. “I think there was a study.”  
  
“Put it on my desk in the morning and I’ll read over it.” Cole huffed out a breath when Roy reached over to slap him on the shoulder, to slide one big hand around to squeeze the back of his neck. For that one second, it felt good, a momentary release of the pressure that went into his head.  
  
“Come on, Cole,” he said, and left his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Let’s relax a little. Wife and kids are in bed already, no one’s going to mind you out a little later.”  
  
“I don’t feel like drinking,” he said, and it was true. Alcohol would just make his head ache more, his stomach turn.  
  
“Didn’t say anything about drinking,” Roy said, and pulled his hand away. Cole cut his eyes over to him for a moment, saw that perfect shit-eating grin. The correct choice in this situation, he knew, would be to stay silent for the rest of the drive.  
  
“What did you have in mind, then?” he asked, regardless of that knowledge.  
  
Roy reached into his pocket. “That was an _awful_ lot of soup we found.” He held the hand-rolled cigarette out upright, pinched between his fingers. “Man can’t help but help himself to a little sip when he’s feeling hungry.”  
  
Cole nearly ran a red light. “ _Reefer?_ Roy, are you insane?”  
  
“I’m very sane. I know the importance of a well-settled mind.”  
  
Cole took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the wheel. “I should report this.”  
  
“You’re not going to, though.” He laughed a little. “Come on, Cole, it’s one joint. I know you’ve shrugged off more than that.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to _partake_ , and you shouldn’t, either.”  
  
Roy let the reefer pass over his fingers, like a magician’s coin trick. “I’ve been on Ad Vice for a long time, and I’ve seen enough to know the good from the bad. It’s not like I’m asking you to become a junkie. I just happen to know that a little grass can be beneficial.”  
  
Cole snorted, “ _Beneficial?_ ”  
  
“Seen a lot of guys who came back from the war get into a little dope.” Roy held it between his first two fingers, like it was nothing more than a regular cigarette. “All of them said it helped.”  
  
Cole swallowed. “Helped?”  
  
Roy’s voice was low and smooth, hypnotist calm. “Makes the battle inside fade away for a while. And unlike some other things, doesn’t leave you wanting another kiss of the needle afterwards.”  
  
Cole drove in silence for five minutes while Roy watched him, still and steady. There was more behind his eyes than just the burn when he closed them. He swallowed again. “Where should we go?”  
  
Roy gave him a firm squeeze on the shoulder and smiled. “I know a place in the hills. I’ll give you directions.”  
  
\---  
  
The place was remote enough; if Cole were still a patrolman it’d be the kind of place where he’d bust teenagers in the backs of cars. But he was in the front of the car, with Roy, and with a lit joint held out to him.  
  
“Take it easy. Bit rougher than a regular smoke,” Roy said, and Cole took the reefer.  
  
He hadn’t smoked at all since the war. But this smoke was different from then, thick on his tongue and tasting green like brambles. It did burn his lungs, and he choked just a little, but Roy’s pleased grin got him to get his breathing under control quickly.  
  
“I don’t feel anything,” he said, staring at the ember at the end of it.  
  
“Are you drunk after one sip of rye?” Roy said. “Keep going.”  
  
He took a few more inhales, and it came on him like a slow thaw, a creep gentle enough that he almost didn’t realize it was happening. His blinks were coming slower and his heart was beating faster, but he felt calm, soft as a windless lake. All he could think about was the feel of the sweat underneath his skin, of the feel of fabric stretched across his thighs, of the weight of his hat on his brow.  
  
“Feeling good?” Roy said, and Cole focused in on how he could feel the heat from Roy’s body, because Roy had gotten close to him at some point. He could feel Roy breathing, nearly see it in the air.  
  
“...Yes,” he said, eventually. Roy grinned and put a hand around the back of his neck, giving him that squeeze again that had felt so good before and felt even better now. Roy plucked the reefer from his fingers. That was all right, he supposed.  
  
“Doesn’t hit everyone well, I’ll be honest,” Roy said, and took a puff himself. “Makes some people feel like everyone’s out to get them.” He squeezed his neck again, and Cole felt a hum in his own chest. “How about you? How do you feel, Cole?”  
  
The words to describe it passed out of his grasp as they came near. How he felt, how he really felt, in a way that he could never explain that would make sense to another person, was _inside_ himself. And that was a place he hadn’t been in years.  
  
“Good,” he said, because that was simple enough answer. Roy laughed and lifted Cole’s hat from his head. The sudden coolness on the crown of his head was something new and wonderful to fixate on.  
  
“Must be. Hell, Cole, you’re _smiling_.” Roy lifted his fingers up to Cole’s mouth and brushed them over lips that Cole hadn’t realized were curving. The touch made his mouth part, made him sigh out over Roy’s fingertips. Roy paused with them resting on his lower lip for what felt like a very long time, and then, in a way that was sudden and no surprise at all, pushed his fingers into Cole’s mouth.  
  
Cole opened his mouth and let them in. It felt good, and for once, for once in a very long while, he couldn’t care about anything other than that.  
  
“Oh, aren’t you a nice one,” Roy said, low and pleased, and worked his fingers in and out of Cole’s mouth. Cole’s mouth felt dry, but Roy’s fingers were getting his lips wet, making his fingers slick. “You like that, Cole? Feel good?” Cole could only nod. “I’ve got something better in mind, then.”  
  
Roy had his hands on his shoulders, then, and where time had slowed before it instead sped up, and somehow he was on his back stretched across the front seat of the car, with Roy perched over his chest, with that hot hand of his squeezing the back of his neck. “Now, be good. No teeth.” Roy made his mouth part again with a little nudge of his thumb, and then he was pushing his cock past his lips. Cole let it in, as easy as his fingers.  
  
The taste caught his attention for a while, salty like sweat but with something darker beneath it, a rich human taste that he wanted more of. Roy rocked his hips in a slow pace, giving him more and then taking it away again, and Cole just kept his mouth steady, letting him slide past his tongue, letting him go deep enough it stuttered his breath.  
  
“Jesus, you got a sweet mouth,” Roy breathed, and brushed his thumb along the side of Cole’s cheek. It made him draw his mouth in tighter, and that gave him more of that taste, so filthy and real, and that hum came out of his chest again.  
  
The slide of his mouth over Roy’s prick became all he could feel, the whole world narrowing down to just that tiny slice of sensation. Roy was right; the battle was calm. Now there was just this experience, one moment held tight before slipping out of his grasp to make way for another.  
  
He was distracted by Roy’s hand gripping at his hair, the pin-sharp feeling of his fingers tugging at it, when Roy came, bringing his cock out past his lips to spill across his mouth and cheek. Roy gripped the car door beyond his head as he panted, and Cole slipped his tongue out to taste the cooling liquid on his lips. His mouth felt dry, and it made it feel wetter.  
  
Some time later, Roy was pulling him up to a sitting position again, fixing him back in the seat. Cole finally opened his eyes again as Roy wiped off his face with his handkerchief. Roy looked at him and grinned.  
  
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell feel less tense.” He gave Cole a squeeze on the shoulder, then moved to get out of the passenger side door. “Scoot over, I’ll drive us back.”  
  
By the time Cole got home, he was losing the feeling, coming away from being nothing but a heartbeat and nerves. But while it lasted, he woke his wife, stroked his fingers over her face, and made love to her for the first time in quite some time.


End file.
